


Just Thought I'd Check In On My Beloved...

by MisfitWriter



Category: Still Star-Crossed (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-10 00:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11116392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisfitWriter/pseuds/MisfitWriter
Summary: Inspired by a Tumblr post by Gentlesleaze, where Benvolio's "Just thought I'd check in on my beloved" becomes a thing throughout the growth of their relationship.  So, without further ado, the evolution of their relationship from snark to affection...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part One: Benvolio notices the tension between Rosaline and Escalus following the feast and disaster that was their public betrothal announcement.

Benvolio Montague smothered a heavy sigh as he listened to his uncle prattle on about the grand celebration they would have for the wedding.  At the very least  _ someone _ would enjoy the day; if the discontent on Lady Rosaline’s face was any indication, she still held the same level of contempt for their forced union that Benvolio felt.

Another party that would clearly rather not see the marriage take place: the very man who ordered it.  Benvolio could not feign to understand Prince Escalus and his actions where Rosaline was concerned; he ordered the betrothal of a woman he loved to a man that she loathed, virtually professed his love and kissed her when she refused, and then ordered her compliance anyway.  Did the Montague understand the purpose of the marriage? Certainly.  He could see the ideal outcome of the match, had once hoped such an outcome would have made the scandalous marriage of his cousin and Lady Juliet worthwhile, if not for it’s tragic ending.

He understood the  _ politics _ of the decision...but that did not mean he understood how the Prince treated a woman he seemed to love. Despite his uncle’s shallow assumption of Benvolio’s character, he was a man who honored and respected those dear to him...particularly, he liked to believe, a woman who held his heart.  He would never consider toying with someone who’d given him her trust...given him the capacity to break her heart. 

Rosaline had seemed to be handling the situation well enough at first, but something had recently changed.  Now, she looked pained any time she looked at him; Benvolio wondered if the tension between the two was apparent to all, or only to him as the one who caught their brief encounter just days ago.  

The young lord was drawn from his musing when the woman occupying his thoughts brushed past him.  A quick glance around told him that the patriarchs of their houses were too caught up in their planning and bickering to be bothered with her, but their sovereign was staring after her in distress.  His eyes then darted to Benvolio’s, surprised that he was being observed.  The brunette narrowed his eyes at the Prince before turning to follow his betrothed.  

When he caught up to her, Rosaline had come to a quiet gazebo overlooking a lake.  With a little smirk, he stepped up behind her much as he’d done the evening of the feast...the night she’d been so confident in her ability to thwart the Prince’s decree.  Rosaline turned her head just a fraction, not enough to actually see him, but the way her shoulders tensed spoke to her knowledge of the intruder.

“Can you not give me a moment’s peace, Montague?” she sighed wearily.  Benvolio was only mildly surprised by the surge of protectiveness at her tone; after the chaos of their ruined betrothal announcement, he’d found himself becoming concerned for her wellbeing (if not any more inclined to marry her.)

Unable to resist, he leaned forward to whisper into her ear: “just thought I’d check in on my beloved.”  Rosaline tried to turn her head away from him, but he caught the way a smile fought - and mostly succeeded - to cross her lips.  He stepped back to give her space, and leaned his hip against the rail of the gazebo.  When she finally turned to him, her face was a mask of cool indifference, and Benvolio couldn’t help a chuckle.  “I could not help but notice the tension between yourself and our dear Prince...and the distress on his face as you hurried away from him.”  Anger grew in her eyes, and he knew at once he’d been misunderstood.

“Come to mock my rejection, have you? If you were to hold your knowledge over our heads, I would have much rathered you’d exposed it that night,” she snapped, gathering her skirts to storm away.

“No-Capulet, wait.”  She paused with an annoyed huff but did not face him.  He held back his own growl, fighting his instinct to bicker with her. A slow, deep breath settled him; as he spoke, she turned back around. “That was not my intention, my lady.  Something seems different in the way you look at the Prince since the feast...I will not press you to share with me, but know that I am willing to listen if needed.”  His fiancee was so shocked by his genuine offer that she did not move an inch when he bowed deeply and excused himself.  

The Montague paused before stepping out of the gazebo, glancing back over his shoulder to see that she’d turned to watch him, an indiscernible look in her eyes.  He offered her a brief smirk before continuing his path back to the others.


	2. Chapter 2

Benvolio glanced around the palace foyer, admittedly rather confused.  Either he was the first to arrive (the more likely considering he’d never been alone with their sovereign before), or he was in fact here to meet the Prince alone (the less ideal of the options, because a private meeting with the Prince did not strike him as something positive).  

“Signore Montague, thank you for coming so promptly.”

The man in question turned to see the prince enter, and bowed respectfully.  “Of course, Your Grace; ‘tis not often my sovereign requests an audience.”  Escalus gestured towards a large study, and Benvolio could not help a sense of unease as the doors were closed behind them.

“I regret that this is not a more pleasant meeting, but something has happened.”

Fear tightened every muscle in his body.  “Rosaline?”  The intensity of his concern surprised the young Montague, but he could not fathom another reason the prince would summon him without the Lord of his house.  

“No, I assure you this is not regarding her.”  His eyes flashed for a moment, with what looked strangely like jealousy, and again Benvolio found himself watching the prince with narrowed eyes.  “This is...about your cousin.”

All thoughts of his betrothed fled from his mind, confusion replacing them.  “Romeo?”

Escalus nodded, regret in his eyes.  “The evening of the feast of the Great Houses, an unknown criminal entered into Romeo’s crypt...and mutilated his corpse.”  He paused when Benvolio inhaled sharply, and the Montague could not hear the rest of the prince’s explanation over the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.  A gentle hand on his shoulder grounded Benvolio after a moment, but could do nothing to ease the nausea and grief threatening to overwhelm him.  “Forgive me for bearing such terrible news, Signore Montague...I could not risk inciting vengeance by telling the head of your House, but felt it important that you know.”

“I beg your pardon, You Grace...I...I must take my leave,” he choked.  Without waiting for a response, Benvolio gave a sloppy bow and stumbled out of the palace.  He was so consumed by his grief and rage that he did not notice his betrothed calling after him as he passed her.

\--

“Benvolio!” Rosaline called, turning to watch him practically run from the palace.  He did not react to her in the slightest, and was out of sight within moments.  The lady found herself both curious and concerned...what was he doing at the palace alone, and what had him so distressed that he would not even greet her in passing?  She glanced over to Livia, who gave a particularly unladylike shrug.  Both of them then turned to the palace door, where Prince Escalus stood waiting for them, a peculiar look on his face.  

Rosaline and Livia curtsied low and followed him into the foyer, where their sovereign turned to Livia.  “Please, Olivia, would you excuse us but a moment?”  Her younger sister curtsied again in response, and settled herself into a chair as Escalus offered Rosaline his arm.

“Good day, Your Grace,” she murmured, following his lead into a study.  She found herself somewhat uneasy when he closed the doors behind them, almost wishing that Livia had insisted on staying with her. She took a slow breath.  “We passed Benvolio as we approached...he appeared distressed.”

Finally Escalus came around to stand before her, his face unreadable.  “Yes...I summoned him to share some rather upsetting news.  Something that happened on the evening of the feast of the Great Houses.  But I asked you here for a very different purpose, my sweet Rosaline...I cannot allow you to marry another.”

Shock stilled Rosaline’s heart. “W-what?!”

“We have had days of peace, so I cannot rightly force you to marry Benvolio Montague any longer...not when I no longer believe your union will be of any good to Verona.  Not when I love you.”

The sharp-witted woman thought back on what he’d first said, and felt cold suspicion sink into her bones.  “What did you tell Benvolio?  What happened _the night of the feast_?”  Her voice was nearly a hiss, and it took Escalus a moment to recognize his error.  He sighed in resignation.

“When I told you those things that night...when I told you that I loved you and did not want you to marry the Montague, I truly meant it.  That evening, though...I was woken by one of my men.”  He paused, and Rosaline urged him on with a glare.  “Someone had gone into Romeo’s crypt in the night, and...dismembered him.”  Rosaline gasped, clapping a trembling hand over her mouth.  Tears burned in her eyes, and she was almost grateful that Escalus saved her from having to speak by continuing himself.  “With no end of violence in sight, I felt that I had no other option than to go through with the betrothal at that time.  But as I said-”

“You told _Benvolio_ what was done to his dear cousin’s _corpse_ ?! Two weeks after it happened? Escalus, he is a good man...have you no idea what you’ve _done?!_ ”  Her betrothed’s distraction made painful sense, and all she wanted in that moment was to find him.  An awful thought struck her.  “Did you do this in hopes that he would attempt to avenge this disrespect?”

Escalus had the decency to look guilty, but still he defended himself. “Do you think me so callous? I told you, my Rosaline, I have come to realize that your betrothal will no longer benefit Verona as I’d believed that night.  I hope to take you as my wife.”  She couldn’t tell if Escalus had hurt her fiance intentionally for an excuse to call off the betrothal, or if he was simply so consumed by his desire to marry her that he could not see that such a devastating revelation was imprudent.  She couldn’t say which would be worse, and it only served to anger her.  

“How can I be expected to truly trust you again, _Your Grace_ ?  You cannot see how you have grievously wounded someone for whom I have come to care, and you cannot see how much toying with my heart has wounded _me_.  If you would excuse me, Your Grace...I fear my fiance may do something rash if not consoled.  Please, if you would, see that my sister makes it home safely.”  She curtsied to Escalus, and spun on her heel to rush out after Benvolio.  As she passed Livia, she gestured to the Prince, who had followed her into the foyer.

She was grateful that the cemetery was not far.  It did not take long to find the correct crypt, directed as she was by the heartbreaking sound of retching.  When she stepped into the doorway, her fiance’s back was to her.  

He stood at the corner of the small room, bent over and wiping across his mouth with the back of his hand.  His shoulders were visibly shaking, and she jumped when he gave a hoarse cry and punched the wall before him.  The sound was one Rosaline was sure she’d never forget...one of raw, unadulterated sorrow and loneliness.  In this moment, she truly _saw_ her fiance for who he was: a man who’d lost his best friends days apart, struggled to keep himself afloat with no one to lean on, and now had to face the horrific defilement of his cousin alone.  

_Not alone._

Rosaline came back to herself when she saw him draw his fist back once more, and she scrambled forward to catch his wrist.  Benvolio whirled on her with a vicious snarl, but relented as soon as his eyes met hers.  With a pained glance back to Romeo’s body, Benvolio ushered her out of the room, using his body as a shield from the gory sight.  “This is a horror no lady should see,” he murmured, voice tired.  Rosaline gripped his biceps tightly, eyes fixed on his face.  “What are you doing here, my lady?”  Even as he spoke, he kept his eyes turned to the ground.

“I…” With a ghost of a smile, she spoke the words she desperately hoped would tell him that he could lean on her: “just thought I’d check in on my beloved.”  

Her words seemed to have their desired effect, finally drawing his gaze up to hers.  Red rimmed his blue eyes, making them seem brighter than ever, but he did not shy from staring hard at her, searching for any sign of insincerity.  “Be careful, Capulet, such words may lead me to believe that you care for me.”

“Perhaps I am coming to appreciate my betrothed,” she murmured seriously.  The corner of his lips quirked weakly, and Rosaline counted it as a victory. She lifted his reddened hand, prodding the knuckles gently to ensure none were broken, and was satisfied that he barely winced at her touch.  When she was finished, Benvolio stepped back to the wall, and slid down to sit on the ground.  His elbows came to rest on his knees, and his head hung low between his arms. Rosaline settled down beside him, near enough that he need only shift his leg, and they would be touching.  “I am truly sorry that Escalus revealed this...treachery to you...and so late, as well.  There was no sense in exposing you to such grief...but I fear that it was because of me.”

“Because of _you_?  How so?”

“It seems as though he summoned both of us separately today.  In light of the apparent truce of late between our houses, he meant to call off our betrothal.”  As she spoke, her voice fell to a whisper, and Rosaline was surprised to find that she worried that Benvolio would be relieved by the news.  “He was going to do so the morning after the feast...after telling me of his love for me, and insisting that I would not marry you.  As he revealed to both of us today, _this_ happened last night, and the following morning he only told me that I would marry you, or he would paint me as a harlot to all of Verona.”

Benvolio’s hands clenched into fists, and he dropped his head back against the wall. Drying tear tracks were evident on his cheeks.  “The source of the tension between you,” he commented.  She watched him silently as he dragged in a long breath and released it slowly.  “And your response?”

Rosaline gave an indignant, humorless huff.  “I cannot bring myself to trust a man who would not only threaten to ruin my family, but bring unnecessary pain my _betrothed_ , whom I have come to trust and rely on.”

Blue eyes held her gaze fast, and she felt a strange calm wash over her.  It had not taken long for the Montague to claim a place in her heart, despite the fire of anger that he could also ignite.  She knew that there was quite a path ahead of them, should they still wed, but the Capulet could say with certainty that the man beside her had become her friend.  Anger set in his eyes, and Rosaline raised a brow in question.

“The man who had already _once_ toyed with your heart the night he ordered our betrothal...did so _again_ , and manipulated you to do so?” He pushed himself to his feet, and Rosaline scrambled to do the same, caught off guard by his sudden passion.  

“What, pray tell, do you intend to do, Montague?  It is our _sovereign_ to whom we refer, I implore you to remember.”  She settled her hand on his arm in an attempt to ground him.  

“Sovereign or not, that man is a _coward_ , and I’ll not stand for it where my _fiancee_  is concerned!”    
  
“And what good would you be to your _fiancee_  if you are thrown in the dungeon, or worse, _killed_ , for challenging the Prince?  I understand you wish to channel your grief into something productive...but this is not it.”  Benvolio growled low in his chest, unable to argue with her logic. He paced back and forth down the corridor.  Rosaline leaned back against the wall, giving him time to release unsettled energy.  “Tell me of your brothers.  Help me to know them.”  

The soft request surprised her fiance, and the open affection reflected in his eyes warmed her as he gave her a grateful smile.  As he returned to her side and the pair sat once more, his knee pressed against hers.  He began to regale her with stories of three young men prone to utter nonsense, fiercely loyal and protective, and she found herself grateful that this man counted her as one worthy of that loyalty.  She only hoped that her behavior this day assured him that she returned the sentiment in kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognize that the science of bodies decaying may be a little off here, but please forgive me and grant me artistic license, I beg of you! Thank you for reading, I hope you are enjoying the series! Don't forget to let me know if there's something in particular you want to read!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are wonderful, your comments make me feel so good about writing this <3 Feel free to send any prompts you might have! I've been considering starting a separate collection for random Rosvolio shots or general ideas (benvolio&romeo&mercutio scenes, anyone?) So hit me with your best shot!

“Capulet would be wise to admit the truth to the Prince about that damned cathedral,” Lord Montague muttered under his breath as he looked over his ledgers. “His Grace will not wait forever to see his decree obeyed.”

Benvolio, sitting across the table from his uncle, smirked to himself.  Unbeknownst to the heads of both houses, it was likely that some part of the Prince  _ would _ allow the betrothal to be delayed indefinitely if given the opportunity...considering he himself had given Rosaline a way out and she had declined.  

In the weeks following the Prince’s revelation to him regarding his dear deceased cousin, the young Montague had often thought on Rosaline’s actions.  She’d revealed to him how the Prince had treated her, how he’d told her he wanted to marry her instead...and how she’d turned him down for the sake of the trust she’d come to find in Benvolio.  Where they’d once been so keen on finding a way to end their betrothal, neither of them had yet revealed the possibility to their families, and Benvolio counted himself lucky.  Rosaline had become a friend to him, and he was not foolish enough to think that his uncle would ever allow him to marry for love now that he was the sole remaining heir to the Montague house.  Love or not, he too had come to trust his betrothed and, as he had realized that horrible night in Romeo’s crypt, relied on her to keep him grounded.

That particular thought struck him as morbidly amusing.  Benvolio had always prided himself in being the level-headed one amongst his brothers...tease as he might, he would never be the one to initiate the festivities that oft found the trio in some form of trouble.  Trouble that it had seemed only Benvolio was typically clear-minded enough to get them out of relatively unscathed.  

The night that they lost Mercutio haunted him, as did Rosaline’s early accusations regarding the fight.  Perhaps if he hadn’t drawn his own sword when Tybalt provoked them -  _ no _ .  The man had been out for blood, and even Romeo’s words were not enough to discourage him.  Had he not drawn his sword, perhaps all of them would have been lost that night.  And had he not fought the other Capulet in the fray, Romeo would have been left vulnerable.  

Perhaps it was the loss of a call to be the steady anchor that left him adrift.  Without the need to keep his cousin and friend out of trouble, he’d begun to struggle to keep his own emotions controlled...like his rage toward the Prince for his actions towards Rosaline.  He’d known that challenging the sovereign would not end well...but he could not bring himself to care, so long as the injustice had been addressed.  What more could be done to hurt him? What more could he possibly lose?

And yet, there was Rosaline.  Pulling him from the darkness, drawing his mind to happier times, for no other reason than to ease his pain.  Not politics, not obligation...neither of those would tether them any longer if she simply spoke the truth to her uncle.  No...she’d been a true friend to Benvolio, and that gave him something to fight for once more.  And together, they had spent the weeks since that day working to uncover the true culprit behind the attacks and unrest in their fair city.

_ “Benvolio!”  _ The young man startled at the sharp bark of his uncle.  He looked up to see Lord Montague glaring at him.  “Whether you like it or not, this  _ will _ be your duty once you are married.  If you spent half as much time fulfilling your familial responsibilities as you do in the taverns and whore-houses, the name of Montague would be far more powerful than Capulet.”  His eyes narrowed, and a snarl twisted his face.  “Perhaps if you had been more attentive to your family than your vices, Romeo would yet live.”

Benvolio’s hand tightened subconsciously.  He knew it would be useless to tell his uncle that he hadn’t been to the brothel since the betrothal was publicly announced, or that he hadn’t been to the taverns in weeks...nevermind that he had been spending much of his time away from the House with his betrothed.  No defense was enough to satisfy Lord Montague’s wrath towards his nephew, as Mercutio and Romeo had learned long ago.

“One would have hoped that the risk of destroying an innocent woman’s honor would be enough to keep you from your foolish ways, but I suppose even that is too much responsibility for you to manage.”  

“Forgive me, my lord, but any lingering exhaustion or distraction is of my own doing.”  Both Benvolio and his uncle turned at the new voice, and Benvolio pushed to his feet respectfully.  “Following a rather unpleasant encounter with a right scoundrel, I asked my betrothed to teach me to defend myself should the need arise once more.”

“Lady Rosaline, what a pleasant surprise,” Lord Montague greeted, pointedly ignoring her story.  “What brings you to our house today?”

Rosaline turned her eyes to Benvolio for a moment, before curtseying to his uncle.  “I just thought I’d check in on my beloved,” she replied lightly.  The corner of her lip twitched, and Benvolio couldn’t help a grin.  He never expected to have something  _ special _ for himself and Rosaline...but this phrase had come to be significant between them.  Encouragement, support, a way to say ‘I know your heart and I will stand beside you’ without overtly admitting positive feelings.  “We ended my lesson last night after I accidentally caught ‘cross the side of his head with the hilt of my knife.”

Shaking his head, Benvolio chuckled lightly.  He felt his uncle’s eyes turn to him suspiciously, so he reached up to rub against a phantom bruise and winced against a phantom pain.  “The lady speaks the truth...startled me, she did.”  His amused glance turned back to his betrothed.  “I am well today, I assure you dear Rosaline.  I am grateful for your concern, but it is unnecessary.”

“Bested by a lady?” Lord Montague scoffed bitterly.  “I should not be surprised, considering you were unable to stop a  _ Capulet _ from slaying Mercutio.”  Benvolio was horrified to feel tears burning in his eyes, grieved as he was by the repeated barrage of blame from his uncle this morning.  He dropped his chin to his chest.  Rosaline did not need to witness his weakness any further than she already had.

“Lord Montague, I must request that you refrain from insulting not only my deceased kin, but my fiance as well, in my presence.”  The younger Montague’s eyes snapped to her face, shocked that she would speak against a Lord on his behalf.  She had stepped closer to him, face alight with fury.  “Your nephew has ever been loyal to your House, following an order to marry someone he scarcely knew and liked even less with no true attempt to refuse.  And of Benvolio, Romeo and Mercutio?  All of Verona knew well of their unshakeable bond.  All knew that when together, they were a force to be reckoned with...and all knew of Signor Benvolio Montague’s role in their relationship.  I might even speculate that this was why Tybalt provoked Romeo and Benvolio as he did, without Mercutio and by drawing your nephew away from your son.”  She turned her eyes to meet Benvolio’s, and it was all he could do to keep himself from going to her side.  It would not do them any good to have him lose his composure and kiss her.  Particularly considering there would be a considerable chance that she would (rightfully) strike him for being so forward.  “My heart grieves with you for your losses, but place blame where blame is due, not on those undeserving.”

Lord Montague was stunned into silence, and Benvolio knew his wrath was soon to follow.  He stepped around the table quickly, settling his hand at the small of Rosaline’s back.  “If you will excuse us, Uncle, we have a meeting with the Friar this afternoon and I would like to speak with Lady Rosaline beforehand.”  Without waiting for a response, he ushered Rosaline out of the room.  She looked up at him quizzically, but he did not speak until the pair were out in the streets of Verona.  As he led her away from the house, he finally met her eyes.  “Thank you.”

“You lied to your uncle,” Rosaline commented, expression unreadable.  Benvolio smiled and ducked his head.  

“Yes, well...my intent was two-fold.  If there is one thing to which Lord Montague is not accustomed, it is being dressed-down by a woman.  Had we lingered, I cannot say how he would have responded, and I am not of the mood to raise a sword to my uncle today.”  Rosaline raised her chin defiantly, and Benvolio found himself resisting the urge to claim her lips once more.  “Also, having to sit through my uncle lecturing about trade and the family name should be considered some form of torture...so I chose the  _ lesser torture _ of parading around the streets with my betrothed,” he teased with a wink.  Rosaline laughed heartily, swatting his arm lightly before tucking her hand into the crook of his elbow.  As they walked through the local market, Benvolio found that the heaviness of guilt instilled by his uncle became lighter and lighter the longer he spent in her presence.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little bit longer to get out...it kind of got away from me, but I think it's my favorite so far so please let me know what you think!!

As a young man raised in the midst of a violent rivalry, Benvolio Montague had always been a well-trained swordsman.  Even still, it had been a skill that came naturally, and he was known to be one of the best in Verona.  His cousin and best friend envied him for it, ladies swooned over it, and his betrothed might have even (accidentally) complimented him on it (to this day, she vehemently denied it, but alas…’tis truth).  

None of that mattered, though, when he found himself surrounded by six men, none of whom he recognized.  He’d been walking from the marketplace to visit with his betrothed.  He’d been foolish to let his guard down, but walking the streets of the Capulet side of town time and again without incident, developing a sense of trust with the people of Rosaline’s family, lulled him into a false sense of security.  It wasn’t until a large man shouldered roughly past him, knocking the flowers he’d purchased for Rosaline from his grasp, that he had any indication of trouble.

The Montague tried to brush off the encounter as an accident.  He nodded respectfully to the man who’d bumped into him, but when he righted himself Benvolio found himself nose to nose with another stranger.  With a curious cant of his head, the Montague stepped back and reached for his sword.  “Have we met, sir?”

In lieu of a response, the man drew his own blade and stepped closer.  Benvolio moved back again, stopping only when another blade dug into his back.  A quick glance over his shoulder revealed three men behind him, and another coming up to flank him on either side.  None wore the Capulet crest.  “You have made some powerful enemies, Montague.  They have decided that enough is  _ enough _ .”  The sword pressed into his spine, causing Benvolio to flinch and lean forward.

“And who might  _ they _ be?” 

“Names matter not to the dead.”

With that, chaos erupted.  All of his attackers moved at once, and it was all Benvolio could do to spin and knock the sword away from the man behind him.  After that, hands latched on to his biceps and a sharp kick sent him to his knees.  Benvolio struggled fiercely, and managed to twist one arm free to scramble for his dagger.  As he drew it from its sheath, a fist caught him across the temple and left him seeing stars.  His blade was ripped from his grasp and pressed to his throat, and he knew that this would be his end.  A hand fisted painfully in his hair and yanked his head back to better expose his throat, and Benvolio turned his cold, hard stare to the man before him.  If this were to be how he died, he would do so looking his killer in the eye.   _ Lord, if this be the end, please protect dear Rosaline. _

“The Guard is coming!” a voice called from behind them.  The shout startled the man holding the dagger, and Benvolio hissed as it bit into his skin.  The man before him snatched for the blade, and lunged forward.  Knowing that he would die if he did not move, he threw his weight to the right with all of his strength.  The blade bit into the flesh of his shoulder, the leather of his doublet mercifully slowing the dagger’s descent.  Voices filled the street, and Benvolio took advantage of the distraction to wrestle free of his attackers, gritting his teeth and failing to smother a hoarse cry of pain in the process.  With his uninjured arm freed easily, he lashed out at the nearest thug.  His satisfaction over the resulting groan was short-lived, as white-hot pain exploded at the back of his head and Benvolio Montague knew only darkness.

\--

Rosaline grinned at her sister, surprising herself with how much she was starting to look forward to the wedding celebration.  She and Livia had spent the afternoon planning and arranging, and the elder sister could honestly say that she no longer despised the idea of being married to Benvolio Montague.  There were far worse fates, she knew, than being bound to this man that had come to be a dear friend.

A soft knock at her -  _ Juliet’s  _ \- bedroom door drew their attention, and Rosaline rose to answer it.  Melody, a servant and friend since the girls were brought to the Capulet house, stood before her with her head dropped respectfully.

“Melody! Sweet girl, why do you look so sullen?”

Regret and sadness were reflected in the eyes of the servant, and Rosaline wished she could erase the question and hold on to her ignorance.  “We just received word, milady.  Benvolio Montague is dead.”  Her lungs seized in her chest, tears burned in her eyes, and Rosaline was certain for a moment that she would be sick.  

“H-how?” she whispered, unable to raise her voice any louder.

“Ambushed in the streets.  The Royal Guard heard word of the attack, but arrived too late to stop it.  He fought with everything he had, but was overtaken.  My deepest sympathies, milady...he was a good man.”  Melody bowed and took her leave.  Afraid that her legs would no longer hold her, the Capulet stumbled back and sank onto the bed.   _ Benvolio...dead.  He’s gone. _

“What is it, sister?  What has happened?” Livia’s gentle voice drew her back to reality, and when Rosaline looked up she reached forward to wipe tears from her cheeks. 

“He’s dead...slain in the streets.”  She could not even bring herself to breathe his name.  “As if this damned feud hadn’t taken enough from me, now it has taken my fiance…”

“Oh, Rose...what can I do?” 

“Come with me to the Prince?  I was told that the Royal Guard was there but could not stop it...I need to know what happened.  I  _ cannot _ believe that our people did this...he had befriended so many, worked so hard to bridge the divide between houses... _ why _ would any Capulet want him dead now?”

“I cannot say, dear sister...let us go now.  I will tell Uncle and fetch the carriage...wait here until I return.”  With that, her sister rushed out of the room.  

Rosaline stared out the nearest window, a sense of numbness settling over her.  Tears continued to fall down her cheeks, but she made no move to wipe them away.  Never again would she look upon the handsome face of her betrothed, or match wits with him over a picnic after a long day of research and investigation.  Never again would he affectionately...teasingly call her  _ Capulet _ or  _ beloved _ ...never would she hear him truly call her beloved.

Some time later, Livia returned.  Without speaking, she ushered Rosaline out into the waiting carriage and signaled for the coach to go.  Not once did she release her sister’s hand, for which Rosaline was grateful.  Livia had not trusted her betrothed early on, but over time had come to somewhat begrudgingly accept him.  That she was taking care of Rosaline now, not challenging her grief, spoke of how much the younger sister could see the shift in their relationship.  

When they reached the palace, Rosaline found that she could not command her body to move from the carriage.  Confronting the Prince meant confirming the truth...that her best friend, her champion, her beloved...was dead.  A gentle tug on her hand finally drew her up, and with every step she felt the weight of his loss grow heavier and heavier, until she was sure that she walked doubled over.  Livia kept one hand in hers, the other pressed to her back to gently lead her forward.  She paid no mind to where her feet took her, her mind far away as it was.

“Livia! Rosaline! What has happened, are you ill dear friend?” As if the words crossed to her through a pool of muck, Rosaline was slow to process Princess Isabella’s greeting.  Had the Prince not told her then? 

“Have you not heard, Your Grace? B...S-Singor Montague has been murdered this day in the streets.  Rosaline wishes to speak to Prince Escalus, as the Royal Guard was present when he passed.”

“Murdered?  I do not understand, my brother is with Friar Laurence and Benvolio now.”  Rosaline could not hide a flinch at his name as fresh agony flared in her chest.  “Sweet friend, hear my words,” the Princess requested, slender fingers lifting her chin.  “Your betrothed yet lives.”

Scarcely able to breathe, Rosaline found herself unable to fully surrender to hope.  It was a lie?  Isabella smiled tenderly, and gestured towards a door just to the right.  The elder Capulet sister took a shaky step towards it, Livia’s hand hovering at her elbow.  Each step after that was more confident than the last, as the light of hope began to fill miniscule cracks in her grief.  Trembling fingers tightened around the knob, and a cry lodged in her throat when she pushed the door open and her eyes fell upon a blessedly familiar form...sitting up of his own volition on the chaise towards the right of the room.

Benvolio looked up and was clearly surprised at her presence.  “Capulet? What are you doing here?” Hearing him use his favored name for her, she was no longer able to contain her broken sob.  Concern filled his handsome features as she rushed to his side, falling to her knees before him.  “Rosaline...what’s wrong?”

“J-Just thought I’d check in on my beloved.”  Before she’d even finished her sentence, Rosaline lifted herself up enough to press a desperate kiss to his lips.  Benvolio tensed at first, clearly as surprised as she by the gesture, but responded quickly.  His right hand cradled her head, elbow pressing into the back of her shoulder to draw her closer.  Rosaline lost herself in the overwhelming sensation of him...his taste, his scent, his touch.  Finally, she allowed herself to trust that this was not some cruel dream.  She knew not how (couldn’t truly be bothered to  _ care _ how), but he was  _ alive _ , and he was kissing her with a passion she’d never even felt with Escalus.

_ Escalus! _  They had an audience! With much reluctance, she pulled away just enough to interrupt their embrace.  Benvolio growled, so softly that she was sure neither of the other occupants in the room heard, but it was enough to send a delicious shiver down her spine.  His forehead pressed to hers as the two fought to steady their breathing, and Rosaline was somewhat embarrassed to realize she was still crying.  When her betrothed finally opened his eyes and gazed at her, he gave her a tender smile and brushed the tears away with the pad of his thumb.  After a moment of simply sharing the same breath with the man she’d thought ripped away from her, she leaned back to take in the still-weeping wound to his left shoulder.  She reached forward, fingers hovering over his skin as she processed how close it was to his heart.

“Worry not, dear Capulet, ‘twas barely a flesh wound.”  He yelped softly and ducked his head, alerting Rosaline to the fact that the Friar had resumed work at the base of his skull.  She raised a skeptical brow at her fiance, who had the decency to look sheepish.  “Perhaps a bit of a headache as well, but I assure you, I will be perfectly fine.”

Rosaline sighed, suddenly exhausted, and cast quick glances to the Prince and Friar.  Benvolio tugged her off of her knees to sit alongside him on the chaise.  “Forgive me, Father, Your Grace.  I...one of my ladies informed me that Benvolio had been slain in the street…”  

\--

Benvolio stared at Rosaline for a moment in surprise.  Still dazed by her unexpected -but  _ far  _ from unwelcome- kiss, it took him a moment to process what she’d just revealed.  When he shifted his gaze to the Prince, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  Escalus looked  _ guilty _ .  “Why would anyone believe me dead?  I was unconscious but a moment.”  

As they spoke, the Friar continued his work in silence, now moving to his left side to tend to the knife wound.  Escalus watched him for a moment, apparently gathering his thoughts.  “Word came early this afternoon from one of my guard of a planned attack.  We knew not when precisely it would be taking place, nor where...simply the target and the intended outcome. I made a decision, and ordered my men to interrupt it, and ensure that appeared as though you had been killed in the process.”

Rosaline gasped beside him, and Benvolio squeezed her hand to both comfort her and steady himself.  The more the Prince spoke, the angrier Benvolio felt himself becoming.  “What on earth could possibly come of that?!” his fiancee questioned sharply.  

“This violence between Capulet and Montague has no end in sight.  I believe that the only way to ensure your safety would be to take this opportunity, which would give Benvolio leave to escape Verona unharmed...and, Lady Rosaline, you would be free to, by appearances, pursue life in the Convent as you had once wished.”

“Was this God-awful plan of yours truly for our safety...or to free you from having to watch us build a life together?” Rosaline grumbled.  Benvolio twisted his face in a grimace to mask the laughter that bubbled in his chest.  He could feel the minute tremors that shook her hand beneath his fingertips, likely the result of her body finally releasing the unimaginable tension of thinking him dead.  The thought of their roles reversed left him lightheaded; he could not allow himself to picture a life without her, and knowing she’d suffered that pain, however briefly, left him itching to lash out at someone.   _ The Prince _ , would it not see him executed.

Escalus cleared his throat, clearly made uncomfortable by her spot-on assessment.  “If you were not agreeable to the plan, it could easily be written off as poor rumor as well.”

“Why did you not send someone to warn us?” Benvolio demanded.  “At the very least, a guard could have gone to Rosaline while the others enacted your foolish plan, to shield her from such grief!”

Escalus straightened, a scowl crossing his features.  “You will do well to mind your informal tone, Signor Montague.  Challenging your sovereign-”

Had the Friar not been in the middle of suturing his wound, Benvolio would have been on his feet in an instant.  Rosaline, sensing his anger, reached over to settle a soothing hand on his knee.  “All of this has been in response to an order that  _ you _ gave, a betrothal  _ you _ commanded, involving a woman you professed to love.  Even now, the greatest victim is the woman who’s only mistake was believing that you had her best interests at heart.”  He took a steadying breath and felt Rosaline’s stare burning into the side of his head.  “Forgive me,  _ Your Grace _ , if I have grown protective of my fiancee.”   

The silence in the room following his declaration was deafening.  Rosaline’s hand in his was clenched, the Friar was hurrying to finish his work (and as a result gave him no warning to the burn of the poultice to seal the wound for healing), and once he’d secured his arm with a cloth sling, he hurried out with little more than a bow to all of them.  Escalus lingered for a moment, eyes growing tired and sad as the anger between them seemed to dissipate.  “We shall send word to your houses that both of you are safe.  Stay so long as you require.”  Benvolio glanced at Rosaline, and silent communication passed between them.

“Thank you, Your Grace, but I think it is best that we go.  Following the show of force by your Guard, none will dare come against us this night,” Rosaline murmured, eyes never leaving her fiance’s.  Benvolio nodded with a tender smile, and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.  They stood as one, Rosaline’s eyes sharp on his face when he took a moment to breathe through a bout of dizziness.  Once he’d regained his bearings, he carefully bowed his head while Rosaline curtseyed to Escalus.

On the way out of the room, they stopped before Livia and Isabella.  Benvolio started to bow to them, but Rosaline pressed against his shoulder to keep him upright, and then curtsied herself.  Isabella grinned, and Livia stepped forward to join them.  “I am relieved to see that the rumors of your murder were...greatly exaggerated, milord.”

Benvolio laughed heartily at his soon-to-be sister.  Livia looped her arm through Rosaline’s free one, and they made their way out into the city.  Rosaline kept a conspicuous eye on him as they walked, and blushed when he gave her an exasperated look.  The closer they got to the Capulet side of town, the more they notice people around them starting to whisper.  

“Do you think word made it to the Montagues of your supposed demise?” Livia asked.  Benvolio shrugged and grimaced as the motion pulled at his injury.  Rosaline rolled her eyes, shooting him an ‘I told you so’ look.

“I am sure that news will make it to my uncle before any news that I still breathe.”

“Perhaps if you hide out for a day or two, and then make a grand entrance, he will be so relieved that his last remaining heir lives, that he will forget how little he actually respects you,” Rosaline teased.  

Livia giggled, and the trio continued on bantering until they made it to the Capulet manor.  Benvolio released Rosaline’s hand to grasp her sister’s, and pressed a kiss to her knuckle.  He turned back to his betrothed, but Livia’s amused  _ tut tut _ had them both turning back to her.  “Dear Benvolio, you are a right fool if you believe that my sister will find any rest without you beside her after what took place today.”  The look she gave them spoke of her overwhelming relief...both that he survived, and that the grief she’d seen in her sister had been erased. She gestured to a balcony above them.  “Go, I will cover with anyone who might ask after you.”  Benvolio, whose heart had started racing at Livia’s implication, looked up at said balcony and then down to his shoulder.  

“I...I will be fine, you should go to let your uncle know you are well,” Rosaline urged.

“I rather liked your suggestion, Capulet.  Go on, I will be awaiting you in your bedroom.”  With a wink that exuded far more confidence than he felt, Benvolio turned and made his way to the ivy under her window.  

\--

Livia hugged Rosaline tightly.  “Oh, dear sister, words cannot express how grateful I am that Benvolio lives...I feared that you might not be far behind, with how strongly you grieved.”  She pulled back.  “I did not realize your feelings for the Montague had grown so deep.”

Rosaline ducked her head.  “Nor had I...believing him to have died...made me realize how much I had come to depend on his presence in my life.  How much...how much I  _ enjoy _ his company.”

“How much you  _ love _ your fiance?” Livia suggested with a grin.  Rosaline bit her bottom lip, trying to smother the butterflies in her stomach.  “ _ Go _ , your beloved is likely hanging from the ivy by now, go  _ help him _ .”

That was all the encouragement she needed.  Propriety be damned, Livia had been painfully correct in her assessment that Rosaline never would have been able to sleep without her fiance’s warmth beside her.  She hurried up the flight of stairs, nodding to servants that she passed, and latched the door behind her straight away.  

Hands gripped her shoulders from behind, causing her to jump, and turned her to face warm, loving blue eyes.  “Benvolio!” she hissed, willing her heart to slow down.  “I did not expect you to  _ actually _ make it up to the balcony before I got here.  How is your shoulder?”

“I have no doubt it will be stiff in the morning, but for now it is fine.”  His hands slid from her shoulders into her hair, drawing her to him and stealing her breath with a slow, possessive kiss.  She clutched at his doublet as an anchor, whimpering when his tongue dipped into her mouth.  When he pulled back, his lips still hovering over hers and breathing the same air, she knew that she was utterly lost for this man.  “To ensure you had no lingering questions that I am, in fact, alive.”

His words brought back flashes of her grief, and tears abruptly filled her eyes.  “Ben…”

Surprise and guilt shone in his eyes, and he pulled her into a tight hug.  Rosaline latched onto him, arms coming around his neck.  Benvolio stroked her back and pressed a kiss to her temple.  “I’m here, my Rose.”  Silent sobs shook her frame, so he carefully swept her into his arms and carried her to her bed.  She let him go long enough to allow him to remove her shoes and his own, as well as his doublet.  The moment he settled onto his side facing her, Rosaline was tucked into his chest.  Benvolio traced his fingers along her arm and pressed kisses to her hair and forehead, whispering soothing words from time to time until her tears ceased.  Humiliation for her outburst burned in her cheeks.

“Forgive me, my lord…” she sniffled, wiping tears away.

A finger curled under her chin and drew her face back up to his.  “My lady, my  _ beloved _ ...you have done nothing for which to forgive.  Had I known what was to come of the ordeal, I would have demanded someone go to you straight away.”  He sighed and pressed his forehead to hers.  “Oh, Capulet...if not for the sake of virtue and propriety, I…” He cut off with a heavy breath.

“You would what, Montague?” she asked, voice low and inquisitive.  Rosaline surprised herself with her boldness, and by the darkening of his eyes as he stared at her, she had surprised Benvolio as well.  With a low growl, he kissed her again, his injured arm falling to her waist and drawing her flush against him.  She gasped against his mouth, a new barrage of sensations and emotions overwhelming her.  Suddenly unsure of which way was up, she dropped her head back to draw in a few breaths.  That distance, however brief, was enough to remind her that he’d been injured and  _ needed to rest _ .  Benvolio seemed to sense her sudden hesitation, and tilted his head to watch for her next step.  “If not for the sake of your injuries, I would say hang virtue and propriety.”

The smile on her beloved’s face was one she’d never seen on him before, and was one she quickly decided she would spend the rest of her life working to bring about.  Despite the chaos and pain of the day, he’d never looked so content and carefree.  “Ever the responsible one,” he teased.

“Whatever it takes.” 

He stole another brief kiss before settling back, reaching out with the arm underneath of him to hold her hand.  “I will be right here when you wake, Capulet.  This is not a dream, and I shall stay as long as it takes to remember that.”  With his free hand he stroked her cheek.  If he was surprised or bothered by her snuggling against his chest once more, he gave no indication (in fact he draped his injured arm carefully about her waist), and she drifted off to the steady beat of his heart against her skin.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was part jealous-Benvolio, and was supposed to be him being snarky towards the Prince, but didn't quite work out that way, and I kinda ended up liking this better. Neatly sums up my feelings for Escalus too, while I'm at it ;) Let me know what you think!

“Oh, Rosaline, look at how beautiful!” Livia called as she fawned over a dress hanging from a shop in the market.  Benvolio chuckled, eyes turning to the lady on his arm.  He ducked his head towards hers so that he could bury his nose in her hair and whisper into her ear.  His hand settled at the small of her back, and an easy grin crossed his lips as she gave a slight shiver.

The easy affection in public was still new to the couple, and Rosaline could scarcely believe that it was real.  Some days, this particular one included, maintaining respectful distance while in the company of others was quite a challenge.  Her fiance was not one to help such matters, generous with his touch and flirtation as he’d become since the day they’d realized the depths of their feelings for one another.  She’d never allowed herself to dream that such love could belong to her...and yet.  “Go, my love, get her a beautiful dress for the ceremony.  Find something lovely for yourself.  I’ll handle the business for my uncle and then return to you.”  He tucked a coin purse into her hand, and pressed a kiss to her temple.  

Before he could step away, though, Rosaline curled her fingers around the back of his neck and tugged him down for a lingering kiss.  “Be quick, Montague, lest we spend all your money.”

“All that I possess belongs to you, Capulet.”  With a charming wink, he was gone.

“Rose, on with it, sister! He’s round the corner, you needn’t stare after him any longer,” Livia teased.  Cheeks burning, Rosaline hurried to catch up with her younger sister, and fawned over the lovely dress in her hands. 

“Oh, Liv, this is perfect!”  She held it up to Livia’s shoulders and nodded.  “How much, sir?”  She glanced over to the shopkeeper, ignoring her sister’s surprised protest as she handed him the proper payment.

“Rosaline I cannot accept such a gift!” 

“‘Tis not from me, and  _ yes _ , you most certainly can.  You deserve to be spoiled from time to time, and I’ll not complain if my fiance sees fit to be one of the men to see it done.”  Truthfully, it was one of the many things that seemed to make her fall more in love with Benvolio; he’d never hesitated to include Livia into their family, their plans for the future.  His loyalty to Rosaline meant loyalty to her sister, and Rosaline knew without a doubt that Livia would be well cared for.  She gathered the dress, now properly covered, into her arms before offering it to her sister.  “Oh,  _ thank you _ ! Now, what about you?”

Glancing around, Rosaline spotted a little shop selling jewelry and trinkets.  “I have yet to find the perfect necklace to wear for the wedding ceremony.  Will you help me?”  Livia grinned and nodded, practically dancing across the market in her excitement.  

“Lady Rosaline, a moment?”

The woman in question sighed lightly.  “Prince Escalus,” she commented.  “To what do I owe this visit, in the common marketplace, no less?”  Livia looked back, but Rosaline waved her off.  Royal guardsmen milled around the area.

“Your wedding day is drawing near.”

She waited for him to continue, and raised a curious brow when he did not.  “Yes, Your Grace, it is.”  In spite of herself, the thought made her heart flutter and a giddy smile turn up her lips.  Escalus seemed to falter at her response.  “Scarcely a fortnight.”

“Indeed.  I...I suppose that I wanted to ensure that you are content with your decision.”

Once again Rosaline sighed, this time unable to resist the urge to roll her eyes as well.  “Your Grace, perhaps you believed that what you saw between us after the attack several weeks past was for show...but I assure you that it was not.  Believing my fiance to be dead did a spectacular job of revealing how deeply I’ve come to care for him.  For just that brief moment, I looked at a future without him, and could not breathe.”  She looked up at him.

The Prince had grown somber, and gave her a sad smile.  “Forgive me, I was concerned for your happiness.  I...I did not trust that he would be the man to provide it for you.”

“Oh, Escalus.  That is not something you shall ever need to concern yourself with.  You told me once that Benvolio Montague was a good and honorable man...and I assure you that he is.  And happy?” She giggled and bit down on her bottom lip.

The sound of throat clearing drew the Prince’s gaze, but only made Rosaline grin wider.  Benvolio approached the pair with wary eyes, hand resting easily against the hilt of his sword.  She glanced at it, and then up at him.  “Is all well?”  

He turned his gaze to the Prince.  “Just thought I’d check in on my beloved.”  Rosaline bit down on her lips to smother a laugh.  Escalus narrowed his eyes, likely working out where he’d heard that before.

“I assure you that I am fine.”  

Benvolio raised a challenging brow at the Prince, who became visibly flustered.  Escalus nodded, which seemed to placate her betrothed.  Rosaline gave him a look to rival the one he’d just given their sovereign, and felt a thrill travel up her spine when he did not back down from her, challenge turning to heat in his blue stare.  “If you would excuse me, gentlemen, I believe my sister is awaiting my company.”  With a smirk, she turned on her heel and searched for Livia in the crowd.

\--

“Do you think me a cruel man, Signor Montague?”

Benvolio tore his eyes away from the retreating form of his beloved, surprised at the frank question from the Prince.  He thought for a moment, and shook his head.  “No, Your Grace,” he replied honestly.  “I do not believe you to be a cruel, or even a heartless man.  I believe you to be opportunistic.  You love Rosaline, that much I have never doubted...you love her the best way that you are able. You make choices and decisions to best serve your own agenda, regardless of who might be caught in the crossfire.”  The Prince looked ready to protest, so he hurried to clarify.  “For a sovereign whose agenda is protecting his people, this is the best that we,  _ your people _ , can hope for. Unfortunately that all too often leaves Rosaline vulnerable, and so even the best that you can give her will always be less than she deserves.”

Escalus stared at him for a long moment.  “I...I thank you for your honesty, Signor Montague.  Forgive me for any strife I have caused between you and Lady Rosaline.”

Benvolio grinned, and it felt as though a weight had lifted from his shoulders.  Try as he might he could not hate the Prince, and to have him, essentially, concede that he had no claim to Rosaline’s heart any longer, eased his distrust.  “Your Grace, I can only be grateful for the role you have played in our lives, for the pride in both of our hearts would have surely kept us apart forever if not for your arrangement.  You have my word that she will be well loved and protected for the rest of her days.”  

With a respectful bow, Benvolio took his leave of the Prince.  He jogged through the street until he found his ladies.  His hand settled round Rosaline’s waist as he dropped a kiss to her temple, and Livia smiled excitedly at him, holding up the necklace she’d just shown to her sister.  He looked from the jewelry to his fiancee’s lovely neck, and could not help but imagine removing it ever so slowly on their wedding night.

With a knowing look that does not leave Benvolio’s face, Rosaline paid for the necklace with a grin.  “Is the Prince well, dear Montague? Or should we prepare ourselves for a life on the run?”  Livia snorted and turned to walk ahead of them, giving the couple just enough space to speak privately.  

“Fear not, Capulet, he is of sound health.”

She grinned at him, but then became somewhat serious.  “You needn’t worry about him.  For a thousand reasons, I choose  _ you _ ...not the least of which being that you love and care for my sister as I do.  _ You _ , Benvolio Montague...you are the one I trust with my heart and my life.   _ You _ understand my spirit, my unspoken needs and desires.”  She stopped, lacing her fingers through his and drawing him close.  “ _ You _ are the one that I love.”  With that, she leaned up and pressed a firm kiss to his lips. Benvolio grinned against her mouth, heart so full it felt as though it would burst at any moment.  He freed his hands so that he could wrap his arms around her and twirl her round, and her resulting giggle was the greatest sound he’d ever heard.  As soon as he set her down, his hands here in her hair to pull her in for another kiss, and Rosaline’s hands fisted in his doublet.

“And I love you, my sweet Rose.”

Livia called to them, voice light and teasing and eyes alight with joy.  Benvolio lifted Rosaline’s knuckles to his lips, and then the couple followed along the streets of Verona towards what would only be the ladies’ home for but a fortnight more.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benvolio can't help himself the day of their wedding.

“I cannot honestly say that I ever expected you to reach this day, nephew.  You have done House Montague proud; we will be far more powerful than the Capulets now.”  It took Benvolio every ounce of self-control not to roll his eyes.  Of course, even on his wedding day, all his uncle could see was  _ power _ .  Damiano Montague finished adjusting Benvolio’s ceremonial cape, patted his shoulder, and was gone with an off-handed comment about last minute arrangements with Lord Capulet.

Giddy excitement washed away any annoyance Benvolio felt, and he shook his head with a grin.  He was like a young maiden, stomach fluttering at the thought of the day to come.  Today, he would claim his beloved as his own.  Today, they would be able to escape the drama of the feud.  Today, they could pretend that there were no responsibilities, no obligations...that they were simply a couple madly in love.

At least the latter part rang true, something for which Benvolio counted himself grateful every day.  The beautiful, intelligent, stubborn, brave heiress to House Capulet had chosen to see beyond his name, beyond his reputation and their early tensions, and entrusted him with her heart.  Some days he could not believe that they’d come so far, that they were truly marrying for the sake of their devotion to one another.

“Lady Rosaline should be ready soon, my lord.  The ceremony will not be long now,” one of the Capulet servants shared.  Benvolio nodded to him with a smile.  A sudden thought struck him, and he turned for the door.

“I shall return shortly, please wait for me here if she is ready before I return?”  The man bowed respectfully, and Benvolio ducked out into the hallway.  With little difficulty, he found his way to his lady’s suite and paused right outside the door.

“You look stunning, dear sister,” Livia’s voice drifted to him.  Both girls giggled, and Benvolio could no longer resist the draw to step in and sneak a glance at his betrothed.  First he saw Livia, looking lovely in the dress she’d found during their visit to the market.  The available men of Verona would be foolish to ignore her beauty.

And he would be a grand fool indeed if he did not recognize the vision that was his beloved.  She stood alongside her sister, gown accentuating her beauty and giving her flawless skin a radiant glow.   _ Or perhaps the glow was all her own _ , he realized with a tender smile.  Her eyes were shining with what he could only describe as joy, and he knew with unwavering certainty that it was for  _ him _ .  

“Could you not have resisted for another  _ hour _ , Montague?”

Livia’s amused voice startled him, and he blinked in surprise to see both sisters watching him, Rosaline through the reflection of her mirror.  Livia squeezed Rosaline’s arm with a grin, and raised a brow at Benvolio as she passed him, giving them a moment alone.  The Montague chuckled and shook his head, before turning his gaze to the mirror.  The smile fell from his lips as he got a better look at his soon-to-be wife.  She stood perfectly still, lips parting slightly as her eyes followed his movement, and her eyelids fluttered when he met her gaze.  Gentle curls fell about her lovely face, and when he reached out to touch them, they proved to be as soft as they looked.  His fingers then fell to the slope of her neck, where he felt her racing heartbeat.  Benvolio swallowed thickly, images dancing across his mind of what might take place the next time they find themselves alone. 

Without breaking eye contact, he reached around her for the necklace he could not wait to take off as he’d already imagined when she first showed it to him.  “You know as well as I that it is not proper for a man to be alone with his betrothed before the wedding ceremony,” she chided.  The breathless quality of her voice threatened to unravel him, and he could not hide the tremor in his hand as he settled the necklace against her skin.

He held the ends of the necklace together with one hand so that he could reach up with the other to draw her hair over her shoulder.  He could not resist the way the newly-exposed expanse of her throat called to be touched, and as soon as the necklace was secured his hand curled around her hip and he pressed his lips to her neck.  He smiled against her skin when her pulse jumped and she gasped.  Rosaline unconsciously canted her head to grant him better access...Benvolio needed no further encouragement.  His lips dragged along her throat slowly, teeth nipping gently when he reached just under her ear.  His betrothed exhaled sharply, and tangled her fingers in his hair.  A wicked grin crossed his face as he settled his lips over her earlobe.  “Just thought I’d check in on my beloved,” he breathed, sealing the sentiment by gently sucking on the tender flesh.  Rosaline turned in his arms, curling her hand around the back of his neck and drawing him down to her.  Benvolio grinned, eager anticipation overwhelming him until he couldn’t breathe.  

He was left in that anticipation, though, with Rosaline hovering close enough for their noses to brush.  “Now that my  _ beloved _ has assisted me with the last of my jewelry, I believe I am ready, my lord.  If you would excuse me, I have a rather impatient Montague awaiting me.”

Benvolio growled playfully and allowed her to push him back.  The seductive gleam in her eyes made it nearly impossible to resist dragging her against him once more, but the challenge that also faced him had the Montague stepping back in temporary surrender.  

When he finally turned to walk out of the room, she laughed.  “You will have your kiss once we are man and wife, dear Montague.”

“Then I implore you to hasten down the aisle, Capulet,” he called without looking back.

\--

The ceremony and following celebration passed in a blur for the newly-wed couple.  Their first kiss as man and wife was chaste, respectful, for the sake of propriety.  They’d only had the opportunity to share a handful of dances, each stolen away to dance with other guests before they were given a chance to truly enjoy one another.  

It wasn’t until Benvolio was given the approval of his uncle to steal away with Rosaline, the predatory smirk on the older Montague’s face unsurprising.  He knew they would not be able to produce an heir fast enough for the man, and Benvolio was sure it would be a fresh source of discord between the men in the weeks to come.  As tapped on the shoulder of the Capulet nobleman currently dancing with his wife ( _ wife! _ ), he found himself particularly grateful that Damiano had eventually agreed to allow them to settle in a manor away from the Montague villa.  

“If I may, ‘tis time to steal away with my beautiful bride.”  He bowed with a warm smile to the man, who stepped away with a congratulatory pat on the shoulder.  Rosaline grinned at him, apparently as eager as he to leave the celebration behind them.  “Would you bid Livia good evening for me, beloved?  I shall fetch the carriage and wait for you there.”

Before long, they were on their way from the cathedral to their new home.  Benvolio counted himself lucky that the trip was relatively short, because his fingers itched to feel the bare skin of his wife’s body.  The fire in her eyes told him that Rosaline was just as restless as he, and he reached across the carriage to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear.  “If not for the sake of virtue and propriety,” he breathed, leaning into her space.

“What will you do, Montague?” She tipped her head back, eyes wide and curious, face a perfect mask of innocence.  Her hands slid beneath the collar of his tunic, fingers featherlight against his clavicle.  Benvolio shuddered, and dropped his forehead to her shoulder.  He felt her giggle more than heard it, and he couldn’t help his responding rumble of frustration.  The scrape of her nails along his shoulders set his nerves aflame, and he knew that if he didn’t regain control of the situation, she’d have him undone before they made it to the house.  

Rosaline’s breath hitched when he bit down on her shoulder through the lace of her dress.  He smirked at the soft little ‘oh’ that she couldn’t conceal, and he cradled her jaw tenderly.  His tongue traced from the edge of her neckline to her jaw, and a gentle puff of air cooled her damp skin.  The responding shiver was victory enough for Benvolio, and he moved up to her ear.

“The instant we are away from prying eyes and ears, I will rid you of this dress, lovely as it is.  I will take my time, tasting every inch of you as I’ve been thirsting to do for weeks.  I will request your assistance in disrobing myself...and then I will lay you down on our marriage bed.  Finally, I will acquaint myself with my beloved wife’s exquisite body, learning what will unravel that fierce mind of yours...what will bring you to the brink, send you tumbling over...what will leave you blissfully spent in my arms.” Nails reflexively dug into his skin. He drew back, thumb tracing the swell of her flushed cheek.  Her eyes were unfocused, dazed...Benvolio bit down on his bottom lip as he pictured such a look mirrored after they lay together.

Both were drawn back to reality when the carriage came to a stop.  The door was opened by the driver, and Benvolio smirked in amusement when the man did not so much as look inside to offer assistance, as customary.  He quickly saw himself out onto the street, and turned to offer a hand to his wife.  Rosaline stepped onto the carriage footrail, and gave a heartfelt laugh when her husband swept her into his arms.  “Thank you, good sir.  If you would, in the morning, fetch miss Olivia Capulet from the Capulet Villa, and bring her here.”  With little effort, he unhooked the coin purse from his belt and passed it to the driver, who nodded and bowed respectfully.  “Good evening.”  

A servant opened the door for them, bowing as Benvolio carried his bride over the threshold with a broad grin. He nodded to dismiss her with a grateful smile. “Why, Lord Montague, I cannot say that I have ever seen you look so blithe.”

When he looked down to her, he found that he could say the same for his beloved.  “For the first time,  _ Lady Montague _ , we are free of the control and demands of our families.   _ You  _ are the Lady of this house, and your family can no longer harm you or Livia.”

Rosaline’s surprise was visible, and she straightened herself so that he would set her on her feet in the foyer.   She settled her hand on his cheek, adoration shining in her eyes.  “You are the best of them, Benvolio. I am grateful that we were brought together...that I am able to rest easy knowing that my sister will be protected from the abuse of my aunt and uncle.”

Benvolio gently drew her hand from his cheek and pressed a kiss to her palm.  “As will you, my love.”  He stared into her eyes, his unspoken question answered when she laced their fingers together and led him towards their bedroom.  The breath caught in his chest, and she graced him with a sultry smile.  “Capulet…”

“ _ Montague _ ,” she corrected smugly.  His jaw clenched, unprepared for how much it would affect him to hear her call herself by his name with conviction.  She yelped when he yanked her hard against him, and laughed against his lips when he kissed her heartily.

“I am wholly yours, sweet Rosaline.  You have captured me, heart and soul, and continue to enchant me at every turn.”  This time when he kissed her, there was no laughter, just a soft whimper.  She responded immediately, pushing her hands between his doublet and tunic, and easing the leather off his shoulders.  Benvolio shook it free, and then buried his hands in her hair.  His teeth caught her bottom lip, and he grinned when her hands tightened on his shoulders.  Careful not to trip over the skirt of her dress, he backed her to their bedroom without breaking their embrace.  The room, already prepared for them with soft lighting, was warm despite the open window at the other end.   _ Their bedroom _ .

\--

As reality set in, Rosaline found herself frozen before her husband.  No longer was propriety going to stop them from going too far...there was no risk that someone would interrupt them.  Not on their wedding night.  Fear began to cloud her joy; she was fully prepared to give herself to her husband, mind, body, and soul...but she could not silence the voice in the back of her mind suddenly reminding her of his past.  Benvolio Montague was an  _ experienced _ man.  She, a virgin, had never done more than kiss, and she’d only ever kissed one man before meeting her beloved.

He was quick to pick up on her sudden change.  Instantly tensing, he took a step back to give her some space.  “Rosaline?”  Feeling ashamed and guilty, she dropped her gaze to the floor and cursed the tears that burned her eyes.  Both of his warm, calloused hands came up to cradle her face and draw it back up so that he could see her.  “My beloved, what is it? Are you unsure?”  His voice was completely void of any frustration, blame, annoyance...of course he would be patient and understanding with her.

“Forgive me, my lord…’tis not uncertainty, I assure you.  I…” She felt her face burn, and a tear slipped down her cheek.  He caught it with the pad of his thumb, eyes never leaving hers.  As she struggled to put her fears to words, understanding dawned on his face.

“No, it is my experience,” he murmured.  He pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, and then returned his gaze to hers.  “I need you to hear me, my love.  No matter the women I have been with in the past, none of them have owned my heart.  Any other experience already pales in comparison, because  _ you are my wife _ .  You and I will learn together, will grow together, will create life together.  Intimacy, connection,  _ love _ ...without those feelings, it is no more than release.  When it is a bond between man and wife, nothing will ever compare.  Do you trust me?”

“Always.”  Her lack of hesitation in responding brought a tender smile to her husband, and he pressed a kiss to her lips.  

“Then please, my lady, if you would turn?”  She obeyed silently, and Benvolio began the process of disrobing her.  He tucked her hair over her shoulder, and took a moment to lavish attention to the back of her neck.  She shivered when he pressed a kiss to her spine, and his fingers began working the laces. Each brush of his fingers and lips left her skin tingling. As he promised, Benvolio trailed his lips down as the laces fell away, until he reached her shift.  Once the dress hung loose on her shoulders, he eased it off each arm until it pooled at her feet, and she stood before him in only a thin white shift.  She turned back around to face him, and Benvolio was staring at her with an unreadable expression.  “My love, you have already far surpassed anyone that might have come before.”  

Instilled with confidence she’d never experienced before, Rosaline grinned and stepped towards him, out of her dress.  Now so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, she boldly reached out and began working to remove his ceremonial belt.  His breath stuttered in his chest, and his head dropped back for a moment.  Rosaline glanced up through her lashes, and was encouraged by his clenched eyes and jaw.  His sword hit the ground first, a dull  _ thunk _ against the wood, and she took a moment to watch him fight to compose himself.  Her fingers fisted in his tunic, tugging them free from his pants.  Steel blue eyes, darkened with hunger, finally turned back down to her, and she gave him a sweet smile as her hands found their way under the tunic to explore his abdomen and chest.  Her fingernails dragged down, catching on his nipples and making him growl.  His arms pulled her against him, trapping her hands between them for a moment and giving him the opportunity to steal her breath with a possessive kiss.  His tongue dragged across her bottom lip, and a newfound sense of urgency drove her to push against his chest and drag his shirt up.  Benvolio didn’t hesitate to follow her lead.  As soon as the tunic was out of her hands, she reached for his trousers, and her husband pressed his forehead to hers.  His breathing was ragged, and his hands were shaking when they clutched at her hips.  Once she had the ties undone, she paused, drawing her head back to look him in the eye.  

“Are you certain, my lady?”  His sincere concern warmed her chest, and she gave him a tender kiss.  Her answer was to push his trousers over his hips, and step back to admire the view of her husband, unabashed and bare before her.  “Is it...to your satisfaction Lady Montague?”

Was that...self doubt? “Absolutely, my lord.  I suppose it is only fair…”  His hands, still at her waist, dragged her shift up and over her head in one smooth movement.  For an instant she had to fight the instinct to cover herself, but she reminded herself that this was a good, honest, loving man, and she wanted to hold nothing back from him.  When she looked shyly up at his face, the only word she could conjure to describe the look in his eyes was  _ awe _ .  “B-Benvolio?”

“You, Rosaline, have no idea how truly breathtaking you are...and I look forward to reminding you of this everyday if I must...with words and with action.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out before the episode (cutting it crazy close haha), but I am also writing the direct continuation of this chapter in "6.b". It will be explicit content, so if you do not wish to read that, the next chapter will not be for you, and you will not miss any significant information! Just a newlywed couple consummating their love ;)


	7. 6b - adult content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Direct continuation of 6a

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The following chapter is ADULT CONTENT, so if you are not interested in reading, rest assured no pertinent plot information will be missed by skipping this chapter. 7 will follow shortly and will resume the T-rating.

Benvolio reached forward with both hands to cradle her face, staring into her eyes for a long moment, and Rosaline was sure the skin where he touched her was aflame.  The longer he held her gaze, though, the more calm and sure she became.  Without closing her eyes, she lifted herself up onto her toes and gave him a sweet kiss.  His tongue darted out to taste her, and she slid her own out to meet it.  They lost themselves in the embrace for a moment, both pouring their emotions into the way they pushed and pulled, tongues dueling for dominance.  Rosaline clung to him, fingers digging into the bare skin of his back.

Her husband abruptly drew her bottom lip into his mouth, teeth tugging and lips sucking gently, igniting fire in her belly.  Rosaline surprised herself with a breathy moan, and she dug her nails along his shoulders.  Benvolio hissed through his teeth.  His hands abandoned her face, but he did not give her time to miss his touch before they curled around to the small of her back and pressed her flush against him.  “Oh!” she gasped, blinded for a moment by the surge of pleasure when the evidence of his desire pressed against her womanhood.  He took advantage of her distraction to trace a line of kisses along her throat to her collarbone.  “Benvolio…”

“Yes, beloved?” the low, husky pitch of his voice vibrated against her chest, and she reached up to cup the back of his head and cradle it against her.  Benvolio did not resist, and she felt his grin between kisses that he then started to place over the swell of her breast.  Her breathing became ragged, her knees began to grew weak, and she knew that if her husband was not holding her against him, she would certainly melt.  As if he could sense it (he very likely could), he reached down to the backs of her thighs, and lifted her easily off her feet.  He guided her legs around his waist, and began moving before she could regain her bearings.  

Just as quickly as he’d lifted her up, Benvolio practically tossed her onto her back on the mattress.  Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she bounced, and she allowed her body to relax into the cloud-like cushion beneath her.  One hand reached up to brush a curl from her eyes, and the other settled onto the hyper-sensitive skin of her stomach, and when she finally looked up at her husband, she felt like a doe frozen in the deadly aim of a hungry predator.  Her giggle caught in her chest, her hand twitched on her stomach, and his gaze dropped to stare at her fingers, the blue of his irises nearly hidden by his dilated pupils.

“Come to me, husband.” 

She bit her bottom lip when Benvolio’s jaw clenched at her command.  As he knelt over her on the bed, legs framing her hips, he reached out towards her.  Rosaline held his heated stare, outwardly unflinching, when his thumb dragged slow across her lip as if to soothe it.  Feeling emboldened by the fire his touch continued to stoke inside of her, she dropped her chin just enough so that she could draw his finger into her mouth and close her lips around it.  Her tongue stroked it slowly, and his lips parted.  She sucked firmly, and his eyelids fluttered.  “My Rose, you…” he swallowed thickly.  “You will be the death of me this night.”

After a moment she released his thumb and gave him a seductive smirk.  “What a...pleasant way to die.”  Benvolio’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and a slow, unhindered smile spread across his handsome face.  Rosaline found herself utterly taken by the gravity of the emotion he displayed, like he could not truly believe that this was real.  She could wholeheartedly appreciate the sentiment.

“What kind of husband would I be if I did not give as much as I take?”  With that, he captured her lips with his own, hands bracing himself alongside her shoulders.  He allowed her to engage for just a moment before breaking the kiss and attaching his mouth to her throat.  He alternated between biting down, sucking gently, and dragging his tongue along her sensitive skin.  Rosaline was left lightheaded, intoxicated, and could only cling to his back.  He continued to trail a path down to her chest, and she could not help but arch her back off of the mattress when his lips closed over one of her nipples.  When he moved quickly to the other side, she whimpered, thoughts rendered incoherent and heat pooling between her thighs.

Too soon, he continued his journey down her body.  Benvolio settled himself back on his heels, and abruptly slid an arm under her spine to lift her up.  In one smooth motion he moved her further up the mattress, and it took her a moment to realize he was giving himself more room to...work.  She couldn’t help a giggle when his beard tickled her navel, but his hands kneaded her sides and his thumbs traced the underside of her breast.  He dragged his teeth down her abdomen, dipped his tongue into her navel, and then surprised her by nuzzling her skin sweetly with his nose.  

She hadn’t quite realized that he’d stopped moving until she’d been able to catch her breath, and when she lifted her head Benvolio was watching her intently.  “My love?”

“Will you allow me to take care of you, wife?”  Touched by his concern for her consent, she could only nod.  Benvolio grinned again, and shifted himself further down until he was positioned directly over her hips.  His hands tightened on her waist, bracing her against the mattress as he kissed his way down to the juncture between her legs.  Rosaline gasped sharply, overwhelmed by the unexpected wave of pleasure triggered by his touch.  She could feel his smug grin against the inside of her thigh, and shuddered when he dragged his nose - and in turn his beard - down to her knee.  When she squirmed, he splayed his hand across her stomach, teasing her further when he scratched lightly at her skin.  

“Ben-oh!” He nipped at her thigh back up her leg, and finally ceased his torture.  Her hips jerked involuntarily when his tongue dipped briefly into her folds, and her thighs pressed around his head for a moment.  The vibration of his chuckle had her seeing stars, and she was sure that  _ she  _ would be the one to meet her end.  

“Relax, Rose.  ‘Twill feel better if you are not wound so tightly.”  The only response she could muster was a growl, which became a breathy moan when he dragged his tongue along her folds again, and she fought to follow his direction.  “Good girl,” he encouraged, voice muffled as he continued his work.  He took his time, alternating between teasing the outside of her folds and slipping inside, bringing her just to her breaking point before halting and allowing her to come back down before building her right back up again.

Just when she thought she could handle no more, and she was ready to scream in both pleasure and frustration, he lifted himself back up and overwhelmed her with a kiss.  She was distracted by the realization that she was tasting herself on his tongue, and her cry was caught by her husband when his fingers began work of their own.  While a finger pressed inside of her, his thumb traced around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex.  She clung to his neck desperately, breaking the kiss to drag in stuttering breaths as he brought her to the precipice once more.  This time, though, he pressed down on her maidenhead at the same time that he bit down on her shoulder.  All she saw was  _ light _ , and her entire body tensed as ecstasy flooded her veins.  

Her husband brought her back down gradually, continuing to drag lazy circles with his thumb until she hissed lightly through her teeth.  When she was finally able to open her eyes, he settled himself alongside her lax body, propping his head up with his hand and watching her with an adoring smile on his face.  They stayed that way for a moment, Rosaline reveling in the way she felt utterly content, beloved,  _ safe _ in a way that she never had before.  She’d heard the other ladies speak of laying with their husbands, but rarely had they shared about experiences that left them feeling like  _ this _ .  

She wondered if that was because of a lack of experience...or if it was a lack of attention on the part of their husbands.  Benvolio Montague had proven time and again that he was unusually attentive in many other parts of his life...was this trait also attributable to his practices as a lover?  If so, she counted herself blessed.  Where she hadn’t heard many exceptionally  _ good _ experiences, she’d heard countless stories of exceptionally  _ horrible _ experiences...had almost been victim of one herself, as Benvolio could attest.  

She shook her head to clear it, a tender smile crossing her features as she looked up at her husband once more.  He continued to watch her, and had reached out to play with one of her curls.  While he waited for her to be ready to continue, she realized.  The thought stirred heat in her belly once more, and she bit down on her lip to smother a whimper.  Benvolio’s eyes snapped to her mouth, and his breath quickened.  Rosaline canted her head, and reached out to curl her hand around his bicep.  

\--

Benvolio needed no further signal.  He poised himself over her smoothly, and stared into her eyes.  “This will be painful at first...but it will only last a moment.  Do you trust me?”  She nodded, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  He pressed his weight against her, rocking his pelvis forward and breathing slowly through the pleasant friction.  Rosaline gave a breathy sigh, and hooked an ankle behind his knee. “You are...somewhat of a natural,” he teased, unable to hide his affection.  

When she looked at him, there was not a trace of hesitance or worry...only confidence.  Benvolio chuckled in mild disbelief, and kissed her.  Rosaline rolled herself against him this time.  Both of them froze when the motion aligned them, and the head of his member slipped inside of her easily.  He locked an arm around the small of her back, holding her over the mattress and keeping himself just inside of her.  Her hands clung to his neck, and he pressed his forehead into her shoulder.

“Forgive me, my love.”  He felt her nod.  “Take a deep breath, it will help you relax your muscles.”  As she exhaled, he pressed his lips to her temple, tangled their fingers together, and pushed firmly into her.  As he broke through her barrier, she squeezed his hand and inhaled sharply, but gave no other indication of her pain.  Benvolio took a moment to reign himself in, the intense pleasure of seating himself fully inside his beloved wife threatening to unravel him far too soon.  He drew back enough to search her face, and was filled with pride when Rosaline gave him a brave smile.  She nodded, and he drew himself back slowly.  Rosaline inhaled through her nose and allowed her head to fall back, exposing her throat to him.

He took his time at first, pressing her into the mattress and rocking his pelvis against hers to stimulate her bundle of nerves.  Rosaline gradually loosened up, her pleasure visibly building to match his until she began to match his movements.  He let her hand go and reached back to draw her leg higher over his hip, and Rosaline immediately hooked her other around him as well.  Benvolio latched onto her exposed throat to smother a moan as he was drawn deeper inside of her.  Her fingers tangled in his hair, tightening and tugging each time he drew back and thrust back into her.  She matched each thrust by rocking up into him, and before long she was giving a soft moan each time he was buried to the hilt.  With her encouragement, he increased his pace, slipping a hand between them to press against her mound until she was whimpering and her muscles began to tighten around him.  Instinct took over before long, and she fell apart beneath him, her release drawing his own out a breath later.

Spent, Benvolio was unable to hold himself up.  He moved to settle beside her, but Rosaline tightened her hold to keep him directly over her.  He smiled tiredly, and shifted himself down so that some of his weight was off of her and his head was pillowed against her chest.  Fingers carded lovingly through his sweat-dampened hair, and he had to resist the urge to purr in unadulterated happiness.  He reveled in the feel of her heartbeat, gradually coming back to normal, steady and comforting, and in that moment Benvolio realized that what he’d said to her had been a vast understatement.  

None of his previous experiences could ever hope to compare to what he shared with Rosaline.  He hadn’t anticipated how deeply his love for her would impact their union, and he could not fathom ever having such a connection with another.  “You never cease to amaze me, my beautiful wife.”

“Benvolio Montague...hopeless romantic,” Rosaline teased breathlessly.  He chuckled, nuzzling against her chest and tickling her with his beard until she giggled.  “I love you, sweet husband.”  He propped himself up on his elbow to gaze at her for a long moment, and decided that she’d never looked more stunning than in that moment, already half-asleep and alight with bliss.

“And I you, Rosaline Montague.”


	8. Chapter 8

Marriage suited Benvolio and Rosaline far better than anyone could have expected.  Livia followed them into their new home, and had truly blossomed since being restored to her proper station as a lady.  While Verona still had a long road of mending ahead before true peace would be established, Rosaline had been shocked to see that even the Lords Montague and Capulet had started to work together instead of  _ against _ one another.  Everything had truly started to fall into place; she’d grown accustomed to running her own home, Benvolio had established himself well now that he was out from under his uncle’s oppressive thumb (and the God-awful reputation that once followed him), and the pair strengthened their bond with each passing day.  

They did not often see one another during the day, when her husband managed Montague business with his uncle and Rosaline worked alongside their staff; the first thing they’d done was ensure any servants sent by their uncles were well-paid and provided for, much to Damiano Montague’s ire.  Benvolio ensured that he made it home to her before dinner each night, which they shared with Livia (and oftentimes Count Paris, who had elected to spend a season in Verona...to establish positive trade relations with both the Montagues and Capulets, of course).  From there, they would occasionally spend the evening out, visiting the theater, perusing the market, attending formal dinners and balls as expected.  

Her favorite time, though, came after they turned in for the evening.  When they could both shed their formal etiquette, respectful distance, and the stressors of the day, and just be  _ Rose _ and  _ Ben _.  Some nights they would simply relax together, she reading and he sketching or painting, before laying together and enjoying languid exploration.  Some nights, they would banter and play, light and carefree, tickling and teasing.  Others still, they would collide, burning so hot they could scarcely breathe.  It was in these times they learned the most about one another: how to give and take, how to read unspoken emotions and thoughts, and how to come together as one against any challenge.   

It had served them well in the months since the wedding; even though the Great Houses were mending fences, and even though they were away from their respective abusers, presenting a united front had been necessary to prove that they were not to be pushed around any longer.  Still, from time to time, her aunt and his uncle would make valiant efforts to exert control once more, and it would require an evening of sitting or walking the garden together, whispering soft reassurances and, in blessedly rare occurrences, tending to minor injuries. 

Rosaline found herself caught up in the midst of one such evening, and was grateful beyond words for the protective, adoring man stepping up behind her.  His presence, his hand sliding around her waist to settle discreetly on her abdomen, gave her the strength to square her shoulders and hold her head high despite her aunt’s raging.  Benvolio would not speak, not unless she signaled for him to do so, allowing her to fight this particular battle on her own.

“You have not even been a  _ Montague _ for six months, and already you carry yourself as one,” Lady Capulet sneered.  “You disgrace the Capulet name,  _ sweet Rosaline _ .”

Rosaline gave her aunt a charming smile as her husband’s fingers twitched against her dress.  She reached up to cover his hand with her own, twining their fingers together and leaning subtly against his chest.  “While we may possess the  _ name _ Montague, and while I may have spent too long under your roof, I assure you that how I carry myself has nothing to do with Montagues or Capulets...I am, and shall ever be, a  _ Tirimo _ at heart, and run my home as such.  Now if you would excuse us, it is time we make our way back.”  

Benvolio released her waist, and stepped beside her in time to bow as she gave her aunt a curtsey.  Together they turned and she tucked her hand into his elbow.  As soon as they crossed through the Capulet gates, Benvolio stopped, took her face in both hands, and overwhelmed her with a heated kiss.  When he pulled away, she held onto his forearms to keep her steady.

“My beloved  _ Tirimo _ , you handled that beautifully.”  He pressed his warm lips to her forehead, drawing a tender smile from his wife.  “She can imply that she will draw Livia back to her house, but she will never succeed.”  

Rosaline nodded, and they continued walking once more.  “I am well aware...confidence in her inability to harm us does little to ease the sting of her words.  I…” She sighed heavily, gaze falling to the ground for a moment.  “I look forward to the day when they can no longer hold sway on our hearts.”

Benvolio gave her a wry grin.  “Speaking from my own vast experience, Montague, part of us will always crave the approval of those who deny it most.”

“I must say, I was rather impressed with how well you restrained yourself, dear husband,” she teased.  The smile fell from his lips, and he sent her a mock-wounded look as they made their way into their own manor.  “You are getting much better at letting me speak for myself with her.”

He led her directly to their bedroom, and immediately began helping her to untie the laces at the back of her dress.  “Can you truly blame me, considering…”  His voice wavered, and she wished she could see his face.  Her mind flashed back to the first time he’d seen Lady Capulet strike her.  It had been before their wedding, she’d been berated ceaselessly for some slight or another, and Benvolio had been brought into the room by a servant just as her aunt had backhanded Rosaline so hard she’d stumbled.  Her then-betrothed looked as though might have lashed out at the Lady Capulet, had his hands not been busy steadying Rosaline.  

Rosaline settled a hand over her stomach as it fluttered at the memory.  It had taken time, and the occasional loving reprimand, to convince him to allow her to stand up to her aunt.  She knew it was difficult for him, knew that it took every ounce of self-control to hold his tongue, and she could not have been more proud of him for it.  As soon as he’d undone the laces and slid the dress off of her shoulders, she turned and threw her arms around his neck.  Benvolio caught her easily and held her close.  Rosaline took a moment to revel in the strength of his embrace, the tender way he cradled her head against his shoulder. She could not deny that his protective nature could feel overbearing at times, particularly of late...but she knew it was borne of devotion and boundless love.  “Her words might sting, but they do not linger for long because I have  _ you _ to chase them away.”

“Always,” he responded with intense conviction.  An affectionate smile tugged at her lips, and she drew back just far enough to kiss him.

“Undress and come to bed, my love.  It has been a long day that I would very much like to forget.”  With a smooth step backwards, Rosaline left her husband chasing her lips with his own, and giggled at the indignant pout he wore when he failed to catch her.  Feigning disinterest, she settled herself onto their bed and opened the book on her nightstand.  Fabric rustled for a moment before the mattress dipped...though not alongside her as she expected.  It tested her willpower to keep the book up so that she could not watch him.

Benvolio gathered the hem of her shift in his hands, and it was drawn up slowly over her legs.  Only when it reached the underside of her breasts did he stop and lay it down against her skin.  His knees slid between her legs, nudging them wide enough so that he could settle the weight of his body between them.  Finally curiosity won out, and she returned the book to her nightstand.  "Ben," she chuckled, “what are you doing?” 

He did not look at her as he tucked his arms under her back and turned to rest his ear gently just below her navel, eyes closed peacefully.  Once again her stomach fluttered, and a blissful smile crossed her husband’s handsome face.  “Just thought I’d check in on my beloved.”

The breath caught in Rosaline’s chest, and tears blurred her vision.  She reached down to run her fingers lovingly through his hair.  Never had that phrase, evolved as it had become over the course of their relationship, held such wonder...never had it meant  _ so much more _ .  “Oh,” she whispered, drawing his gaze to her without lifting his head.  The sea of blue staring up at her held the same overwhelming mix of feelings swirling inside of her, and she smiled.  How had she come to be so blessed? “Come to me, husband.”

Benvolio complied without a word, but first pressed a loving kiss to the barely-there swell of her belly.  She hummed in contentment when  _ their _ beloved fluttered yet again, as if in response to his _(or her!)_ father’s affection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one! It's definitely one of my favorites!
> 
> For now, I have written all of the ideas that I had for this particular set. I've got a few one-shot ideas and I think I am going to add on to my multichapter fic (What Matters), but I would love it if you guys have some more "just thought I'd check in on my beloved" scenes that you want to see! Thank you so much for all of the love this story has gotten, it means more than I can say!!

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to let me know if there is a particular moment you'd like to see in this series! I have several planned out already, but I'm not afraid to expand!


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